Las Jeepas Strip

In winter it was almost
Empty and the emptiness
Was homey and you
Almost felt at home here.

Now it is spring and
Your jokes at the liquor
Store about tourists
Grow risky as the Jeeps

Descend for their safari,
Thousands strong, stronger
Than you will ever be, every
Last damn one of them,

Young and toothy, sunburned
Already with the joy
Of living as if the point
Of living were to deny

We could ever die,
And some will, some
Always do, and that
Is why their smiles

Remind you, solemn,
Self-righteous, reckless
Old you, bent over
Your yucca walking-stick,

Of the rictus on each
Fleshless fossil that
You teach far north
Of here, in the 'burbs

That these boys and
Girls and grown whatevers
Are fleeing in their guzzling
Jeeps that eat the landscape,

Clog the Main Street,
Fatten the tills of the shopkeepers,
And keep the name of Moab
Resonant enough for you

To boast about it to
Total strangers never been
Here, once you are far
And away from home or here.